A Case of Mistaken Identity
by Golden Snowflake
Summary: Unfortunately, an abundance of knowledge can be detrimental if shared with the wrong individual. Chase, Wuya, and Jack-centric.


The mist slipped lazily through the air, wafting around the stalagmites that reached out of the muck like claws and mingling with the smoke that billowed from the gaping mounds of volcanic soil below. Shadows swam across the gaping mouth of Chase Young's fortress, its fangs glittering with condensation and its eyes gleaming dully like some great beast awaiting the approach of unsuspecting prey. The halls within were still and silent, the air heavy with the slumber of a thousand sentries.

The dark-skinned figure shifted on red fabric, rolling onto her side and releasing a rasping breath. The glow of the torchlight illuminated her forest-green eyes as she stared absently into the shadows.

Chase folded his arms behind his head. It had been years since he'd been close enough to another to feel the warmth radiating off of them without the smell of their blood spattered across the floor following soon after. Wuya didn't catch her breath for a long moment.

"It's been a while," she murmured. When Chase said nothing, she turned to face him. She rested her chin in the palm of one delicate hand, her spidery fingers covering her dark lips. "I'm sure that isn't the case for you, of course."

The warlord blinked, finally sighing. "A number of years, actually."

"_Years?_" He ignored the witch's mildly surprised tone and gaze. "You shouldn't take your permanently physical form for granted, Chase."

"I don't," the man half-snapped, not removing his stare from the ceiling. "I am merely selective when choosing my partners."

"That's quite a compliment." The Heylin witch smiled against her hand.

"I didn't mean it as one." The warrior turned to look at her then, smirking at the displeased face she made.

"I'm not stupid, you know." She rested her hand on her hip, as if to make her annoyance more apparent. "I know you only restored me to my body for utterly disgraceful reasons."

Chase all but grinned incredulously. "_Disgraceful?_ What on earth could you be implying?"

"I'm not implying anything. You may be immortal, but you're still a man. And men are all the same."

"You must be mistaken. I only made you solid so I can slap you when you annoy me."

The witch frowned an almost childish frown, drawing a laugh from the immortal warlord beside her. "I despise you, Chase Young."

"I can tell." He ran his fingertips over an ugly bite mark on his neck that directly contradicted her point. Wuya frowned more and looked away, prompting Chase to chuckle again.

"At least Jack had the sense to release me entirely. Without my powers I feel useless!"

Unable to restrain himself, Chase replied, "I assure you, you aren't useless." Ignoring her scowl, he continued less cheerfully, "And what is it with Spicer? I should be insulted that you favor him so."

"Jackie's a good kid," the witch responded, meriting a disgusted growl from the warlord.

"As futile as his attempts at evil are, he might as _well_ be," he uttered, fatigued beyond caring enough to be moved to any real anger.

"He may be a child, but he has potential, Chase. Though I doubt he'll realize said potential any time soon, and maybe not at all without the right guidance."

Chase sighed and returned his gaze to the ceiling. Wuya watched him for a long moment before deciding to continue. "He's brilliant. His schemes are decent, though he rarely has the discipline and the courage to see them through. And his evil laugh _is_ quite impressive."

"The fact that you'd concern yourself with such a triviality is proof enough that allying myself with you was a mistake."

The woman blinked, her thick eyelashes momentarily obscuring her dark eyes. "You know I'm right, Chase."

"If you're suggesting I take Spicer on as an apprentice, you're even more foolish than I thought."

"I'm not. I'm just not going to let you belittle him any more than he deserves."

Turning his head to look at her through the dark fringe of his bangs, the warrior sneered, "He deserves more belittlement than I have the time to articulate." The witch only watched him, observing the anger that only those extremely familiar with the warlord would be able to identify from the minute twitch of his lips. "It is not enough that I have invited you into my living quarters? Into my _bed?_ What must I do to be immune to your nonsense?"

"Refuse to acknowledge him all you want, Chase," rasped the beautiful immortal with a tilt of her head. "It really is of no consequence to me … as long as you acknowledge _me_, anyway." The dark magic shifted within the depths of her eyes as Wuya spoke.

The warrior turned to regard his companion, his expression a practiced blank. Only an ancient versed in Heylin would be capable of sensing the emotions Chase refused to show: anger, Wuya noted, ebbing into mild displeasure; displeasure followed by a subtle burst of the snide confidence that made him so alluring and yet so irksome at the same time.

After a long moment he lifted a graceful hand to stroke the witch's face, coaxing a smile from her as his thumb brushed over her mouth. "If you insist."

The Heylin witch chuckled softly as she leaned in to press her lips to his.

* * *

**Bleh. DX I am not at all satisfied with this. Still, I think it's a solid enough foundation for the fic I plan to write.**

**The idea of Wuya babbling on about how great Jack can be to have something to feel superior to Chase about has been bugging me for a long while now.**

**I can't believe I shipped this pair when I was younger ... yuck. I absolutely abhor Wuya now, sultry voice and all, but the fact that they were together was pretty apparent at the end of season 3. It's something that needs to be acknowledged, but I don't have to like it.**

**If you haven't guessed where this story is going, feel free to stick around to find out. :3**


End file.
